"I merely in tended to undress you."
"Ah." The pain in his eyes was replaced with a hint of laughter.
"Then by all means, I am your willing servant."
"You--tricked me. You led me to believe you were too weak to move."
"And you were going to take advantage of my weakness, lass?"
"I thought to make you more comfortable."
"And you have." He drew her closer, enjoying the flush that suddenly
reddened her cheeks.
"I am exceedingly more comfortable than I was just moments ago."
"You are despicable." She pushed against him, but he merely tightened
his grip on her. She was amazed by the strength in his hands.
He looked at the woman in his arms. Wisps of hair tumbled wildly
across one eye and cheek. Her bodice gaped open, revealing the soft
swell of her breasts. Her skirts were twisted around her knees,
revealing a fascinating view of shapely legs.
It would seem that beneath the disheveled appearance was a very soft,
very womanly creature.
In his fevered state all Jamie's pain was forgotten, as was his
reticence toward this female. In that moment he could think of but one
thing. He had to taste her lips.
Lindsey felt his gaze burn over her and settle on her mouth. Color
flooded her cheeks. She touched a tongue to her dry lips and realized
her mistake when she saw the way his gaze followed the movement. A
tiny shiver of alarm raced along her spine. Fear? Aye. It must be
fear. What else could she possibly feel for a man who had frightened
her, attacked her, used her to get to her father and brothers?
Jamie's fingers tightened on her arms, drawing her inexorably closer.
His look devoured her. And though he cursed himself for every kind of
a fool, he could not deny his need.
"Nay." Lindsey reached out a hand to stop him. As she did, he caught
her palm and lifted it to his mouth.
With his lips pressed to the soft flesh of her palm, liquid heat pulsed
through her veins, setting her limbs on fire. The protest died on her
lips. Never, never had she known such wild, tumultuous feelings.
She lifted wide eyes to his and could read his intentions. God in
heaven. He was going to kiss her lips, as well. She forgot to
breathe.
Her heart forgot to beat.
His mouth closed over hers. It was the merest brush of lips to lips.
His touch was firm, his kiss easy and practiced.
Her lips trembled. Never before had she been kissed like this. There
had been lads in the village who had tried to kiss her. A few had even
succeeded. Always she had turned away from them, more annoyed than
pleased. But this. This was no clumsy youth, struggling with the
first stirrings of manhood.
Lindsey experienced a rush of feelings like nothing she had ever known.
Her heart was beating so wildly she thought it would surely explode.
Her palms became moist. She kept her hands firmly between her body and
his, hoping to hold him at arm's length. But slowly, with a will of
their own, her fingers splayed across his naked chest, tingling as they
came in contact with his hair-roughened skin.
Jamie drew her closer, allowing his lips to move seductively over hers.
The jolt was sudden, shocking. This had been a mistake. He knew it as
soon as his lips touched hers, as soon as the first wild spark raged
through him But there was no way to stop it now. His body was suddenly
alive, surging with need. But his fevered mind was befuddled.
He seemed robbed of his usual disciplifie. He knew he had to stop
this. From the way she kissed him, he knew her to be an innocent
maiden. She would be shocked and disgusted by his hunger. By angering
her and her family, he would destroy everything he had worked for. But
God in heaven, she was so sweet. And'though he knew he must end it, he
could not. Not yet. One moment more. One more brush of his lips to
hers.
Lindsey's hands curled around his arms, holding on as if her very life
depended on it. Ofttimes, lost in sleep, she had dreamed of a knight
who would carry her off to some distant shore and make her his own.
But always, when she awoke, she felt ashamed of such foolish dreams and
renewed her determination that no man would ever claim her. Some inner
demon had plagued her from childhood, building a wall of fear around
her heart.
She knew, if she let go, the spell would be broken and she would awake
in her own bed, awash in trembling feelings of guilt and fear.
She kept her eyes firmly closed as his lips moved over hers. And
though it was merely a kiss, she sensed the passion, the fire, which he
kept so carefully banked.
With his last desperate burst of self-control, Jamie man aged to
surface and pull himself away. Holding her at a distance, he watched
the play of conflicting emotions on her face and recognized
astonishment, then fear, and then growing disbelief that bordered on
anger.
He lifted a hand and brushed an errant strand of hair from her cheek.
Eyes the shade of a Highland pool stared deeply into his.
Color suffused Lindsey's cheeks. This was not a dream. The man beside
her in the bed was real. And very much alive. She was achingly aware
of his arousal. Surely the wild beating of his heart matched her
own.
She struggled to regain her senses.
"I can see that you are quite strong enough to undress yourself." She
pushed herself from his arms and struggled. to climb from the bed.
She prayed her legs were strong enough to hold her.
He lay quietly, enjoying the sight of her wriggling efforts to smooth
down her skirts. What a magnificent body she hid beneath those
petticoats. His mouth curved into a roguish smile.
"It will not be nearly as pleasurable as having you un dress me, my
lady."
"It is as I first thought." She turned to face him. Her hands were
shaking so badly, she brought them to her hips to steady them. She
hoped she gave the impression of righteous indignation.
"You are a villain masquerading as a Highland gentleman."
"Does this mean you will not help me undress?"
"Oh!" As she flounced to the doorway, she nearly collided with the
servant who was just entering.
"Leave the broth on the bedside table, Moira," she ordered.
"My Lord MacDonald is strong enough to feed himself."
Jamie watched until she disappeared from view. Then he lay very
quietly, feeling the need for her still throbbing within him. His
hands, he noted, were not quite steady, and his heart was beating far
too rapidly. With a moan of discomfort he rolled to his side and
willed himself to bank his desire and seek the rest he so desperately
needed.
Chapter Three
Dawn light had yet to touch the sky when Lindsey slipped from her bed
and made her way to the adjoining room. Carrying a candle aloft, she
opened the door to the sleeping chamber and beckoned the servant seated
by the bedside to come to her. In the adjacent sitting chamber they
spoke in hushed tones
.
"He has not stirred?"
"Nay, my lady. All day and night he has slept."
"The fever?"
"It has run its course. He sleeps as peacefully as a hairn."
"His wounds?"
"The bleeding has stopped. The wounds appear clean." The serving
girl's tone revealed her admiration for the stranger who was the object
of much speculation among the household staff.
"He is most strong, my lady. Never have I seen a man recover so
quickly."
"Next, Moira, you will tell me the saints are on his side," Lindsey
said with a trace of impatience. Then, seeing the weariness in the
girl's eyes, she said softly, "You have done well. Go to sleep now. I
will keep watch until the dawn."
"Aye, my lady."
As the servant left, Lindsey picked up the candle and entered the
sleeping chamber. For long moments she held the candle aloft, peering
at the man in the bed. Then, placing the light on the table she drew a
blanket around her shoulders and settled herself into a chair beside
the bed.
She glanced around the room with a little frown. Her father had
demanded that this man be treated like a respected guest. The basin of
water and bloody linens had been removed. The stranger's blood-soaked
breeches had been stripped off and tossed into the fire.
They were beyond saving. His tunic and fine shirt had been washed and
mended. They lay neatly atop a nearby chest. His boots had been
polished to a high shine and placed beside the bed.
Jamie was sprawled on his back, his arms outstretched. Pristine bed
linens covered him modestly to the waist. His chest rose and fell in
peaceful slumber. Despite the fact that there should be nothing out of
the ordinary about the man who lay sleeping, there remained about him a
hint of danger, even mystery. In the candlelight his thick shaggy hair
and beard glinted with russet strands, as did the mat of hair on his
chest.
Lindsey clenched her hands at her sides to resist the sudden urge to
touch him. She drew the blanket tighter around her shoulders, vexed at
the way her thoughts were wandering She had grown Up in a wbfld of men.
With an earthy father and four callous brothers, men held no mysteries
for her. She had nursed them through dozens of wounds and illnesses,
and had seen them in various stages of undress. Yet the sight of this
man did strange things to her.
Each time she had entered this room to check on the sleeping visitor,
her throat had gone dry. Worst of all, whenever she allowed herself to
think about his kiss, her heartbeat became wild and erratic, and her
palms became damp. As they did now. She wiped her hands on the
blanket and tried to look away. But the man in the bed was like a
magnet, drawing her gaze even when she tried desperately to ignore
him.
Annoyed at her weakness, Lindsey slid the blanket from her shoulders
and crossed the room to poke the fire. A log smoldered, then exploded
into flame, filling the room with a sudden burst of light. She added
another log, then're turned to the bedside. For a moment she paused,
studying the man as he slept.
Some might call him handsome, though she thought his bearded jaw too
strong, his 'brow too wide. Some would probably be amused by his
roguish smile and teasing banter She considered him arrogant. Some
women might even be impressed with his wide shoulders and strong,
callused hands. She knew him to be a brute.
She leaned closer, studying the firm lips beneath the growth of red
beard. So this was the man who was legend among her people. The
Heartless MacDonald.
"I take it you see something that interests you." Lindsey nearly
jumpec out of her skin at the sleep- roughened voice. Quickly she
composed herself.
"You are in error, my lord. I see nothing here of any interest."
As she began to back away his hand snaked out, catching her firmly by
the wrist.
"My mistake, my lady." His lids snapped open, revealing eyes of
midnight blue. In their depths she could see a hint of the danger that
lurked there.
She felt the heat rush to her cheeks and snatched her hand away as if
burned.
"I merely wanted to ascertain that you were still breathing."
"Beware, my lady. It is dangerous to get this close with out my
bidding, unless, of course, you do not fear my blade."
"Your blade is no longer with you. It was removed, along with your
clothing." Despite that fact, Lindsey took another step back,
determined to keep some distance between them. Though her breath felt
lodged in her throat, she would never give him the satisfaction of
knowing that he caused her the slightest discomfort.
"Since you are feeling so bold, my lord, it would be best to leave you
to your own care." "Nay." He caught her hand and was stunned at the
feelings that surged through him at the mere touch of her.
"Forgive my rude behavior. I am not usually such a dolt. Lay the
blame upon the strange circumstances that brought us together, my
lady."
Lindsey felt the pressure of his hand on hers and stared into eyes that
held the merest hint of laughter. She was not certain she liked this
relaxed side of him. If anything, it made him appear even more
dangerous. Like a sleek mountain cat drowsing in the sun.
"Stay awhile, my lady. There is much I need to learn." He released
her hand and she hesitated a moment before returning to the chair
beside the bed. She had promised her father to see to their guest's
comfort, after all. It would do no harm to answer his questions. She
would never admit to herself that this man intrigued her.
"What day is this?"
"You have slept a day and a night, my lord." Lindsey glanced at- the
balcony window.
"It will soon be the dawn of the second day since you arrived."
A look of annoyance crossed his face.
"God in heaven. A day and a night."
As he started to sit up, Lindsey pressed a hand to his shoulder. He
lay back heavily, feeling the room spin in dizzying circles.
"There is much to be done. I have no time for such weakness."
'"Tis not weaknes to give in to the exhaustion of the mind and body, my
lord."
"It is when the queen's life is at stake."
"Rest a while longer, my lord. Just until the household stirs."
"Aye." He closed his eyes, enjoying the touch of her hand against his
flesh.
"A groom saw to him. At great peril, I might add." Jamie opened his
eyes and arched a brow.
"A vicious hound kept circling and bating his fangs. But when the
servants attempted to soothe him with food, the beast ran off. It
would seem your hound is as dangerous as his master."
Jamie's lips curved into a smile.
"He is not mine. Wolf sets his own course. And he has little use for
humans."
' Wolf? " Her hand paused in the act of smoothing his blankets.
"He resembles the wolves that roam the
forests. I took him,
half-starved, from a brute who had beaten him sense less. And though I
set the animal free, he seems torn between his world and mine."
"Might he harm the servants?"
"Only if they attempt to get too close to him."
"Then they and Wolf are safe. I assure you, they have no desire to
challenge the creature."
"I am most grateful, my lady." He lay very still.
"If I should sleep," he said, fighting to clear his mind, "wake me when
the others wake."
"Aye, my lord," Lindsey said as she settled into the chair and drew the
blanket around her. For long minutes she studied him as he slept.
Then, lulled by the rain against . the panes and the warmth of the
fire, she closed her eyes and dozed.
A log blazed on the hearth and the morning sun slanted through the
balcony windows, bathing the bed in a pool of warmth. Jamie' se yes
opened, and for one brief moment he struggled to recall where he was.
Then, as reason returned, he glanced at the chair, only to find it
empty. Momentary regret washed over him. The lass's nighttime visit
had been only a dream. A most pleasant dream.
A servant approached.
"My lady Lindsey instructed me to awaken you as promised, my lord, and
to invite you to join her family in the refectory when you are
dressed."
A smile touched his lips. It had not been a dream.
"Thank you.
Instruct my lord Gordon and his family that I will join them shortly.
"
"Aye, my lord." The servant poured fresh water into a basin, then
crossed the room and left without another word.
Jamie watched as the door closed behind her. With a hiss of pain he
sat up and felt the room spin for several moments. Slowly, as his
vision cleared, he forced himself to stand. Setting his teeth against
the pain, he walked to the basin of water and began to wash. He
touched a hand to the wound at his shoulder. Though there was pain,
the fire was gone.
It was the same as with his other wounds. He had suffered enough
battle wounds to know that although he experienced much pain, the worst
was over. Best of all, his mind was once more clear. The
brain-numbing weariness had vanished. By the time he finished
dressing, he had man aged to push the pain to a distant corner of his
mind. There were pressing matters to address. His discomfort was of
little consequence.
He descended the stairs and followed the rumble of voices along the
hallway. Pausing outside the open door, he listened for a moment to
the chorus of voices raised in dissent.
"There is no way we can keep our departure a secret, Father."
Jamie studied the bearded lad he knew to be the eldest son. Murray's
tone wa low and intense.
"There are many in the Highlands who might take ad vantage of our
departure to pillage our land and steal our wealth."
"Aye," echoed several other voices.
"Is our wealth at issue here? Must not our first concern be the safety
of our beloved queen?"
"Aye. But is it necessary to sacrifice one for the other?" the
tallest son asked.
"Perhaps we should ask our guest," Douglas Gordon said, glancing up.
The others followed suit. Lindsey studied the man whose presence
filled the room. If he suffered any effects from the last few days, he
kept it well hidden. His shirt was woven of finest linen, and his
elegant wool tunic stretched tautly across shoulders wider than any she
had ever seen. His borrowed breeches revealed muscled thighs and a
trim, flat stomach. Clean shaven, he was even more striking than she